


The CrossRhodes Saga

by spaceorphan



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceorphan/pseuds/spaceorphan
Summary: FBI Agents Kurt and Brittany go undercover as a married couple to investigate the CrossRhodes Lounge - a jazz club with some mysterious things going on.Yup, It’s a total 40s Noir AU with undercover identities, black widow sham marriages, and Cooper fucking Anderson.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Snarkyhag for betaing! :) Yes, I know where this is going - but please note the ‘saga’ in the title. Also - I don’t claim to be historically accurate.

**1947\. FBI Headquarters. New York City Division.**

His partner leaned against the door frame of the office, arms across his chest, eyes wide with delight, grinning from ear to ear.  In the twelve years that they had worked together, smugness was not a common trait he saw on Elliott Gilbert, but he was certainly smug now.

If Kurt Hummel didn’t know better, he’d say something unusual was waiting for him behind that door, and that made him nervous.  “What does she want, Elliott?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” Elliott said, shrugging his shoulders.  “You’ve been recruited by the Special Ops.”

“Special Ops? Oh god - does this have to do with the aliens?”

“What aliens?” Elliott gave him a wink.  “No - this time you don’t even have to leave the city.”

Kurt eyed him suspiciously.  “Who asked for me?”

“Agent Pierce.”

“Agent Pierce, fu– why?”

Elliott chuckled and gave an even bigger shrug of his shoulders.  “I don’t ask questions.  I just do what I’m told.”  He gave Kurt a slap on the shoulder as he pushed by.  “Try to have some fun, Hummel.  It may do you some good.”

Kurt opened the door and entered the familiar office of Division Director Sue Sylvester.  The room was lined with plaques, trophies in cases on shelves, awards of all sizes and kind that surrounded a single desk in the middle of the room. A blonde woman sat in a chair in front of the desk, twirling her hair as she waited.  Sue herself stood behind the desk facing the wall, the lights dim enough so that Sue was merely a shadow of a figure.

“Ah, my sweet, sweet Agent Porcelain,” she said without turning around.  “I could smell your angelic rainbow scent the moment you got off the elevator.”

Kurt rolled his eyes.  Sue Sylvester was insane – but still managed to be one of the best FBI leaders he had ever known – which made her marginally tolerable.  “Would you like me to turn on a light?”

“No, that would ruin the dramatic effect.  Please take a seat.”

He took the empty seat next to the blonde woman.  The woman squeed with delight, threw her arms around his neck and squeezed.  Kurt tried not to choke underneath Agent Pierce’s enthusiasm.

“Kurt, I’m so happy to see you.”

“Brittany, we saw each other last week at the agents’ dinner.”

“Yes, but I’ve been to New Mexico since then.”

Of course she had.

“Let’s get started,” Sue said, whipping around and placing both hands on her desk.  “Have either of you ever heard of CrossRhodes Lounge?”

Both of them shook their heads as Sue took out a large, manila folder and dropped it on the desk.  She opened the file and showed them two photographs, one of the lounge itself, a tiny little sign with an arrow pointing to a doorway barely noticeable among the much larger storefronts it was squished between, and the other photo of a middle-aged woman wearing an incredibly revealing dress, one arm flailing above her head while the other one held a glass of wine.  

“The CrossRhodes Lounge is a slinky little jazz club,” Sue explained.   “Opened just after the war to moderate success by a woman named April Rhodes, who once had aspirations of being a Broadway star then settled for being the bored, alcoholic housewife of an aging business man with too much money.  She convinced him to open this cocktail bar to relive her glory days and support her addiction to cheap champagne.  Her husband kept the money flowing through the place on a regular basis in exchange, I’m assuming, for a roll in the sack once a year.  The prowess of Ms. Rhodes appeared to be too much as the old man kicked the bucket during one of their romps.  And as you might imagine, she blew through her inheritance in a matter of two months.  The CrossRhodes Lounge wouldn’t be a thing right now if it weren’t for one Santana Lopez.”

Sue flipped over the next photo in the file to reveal the profile of a dark-haired woman.  Brittany leaned in to take a closer look.

“Ooh, she’s beautiful,” Brittany cooed.

Sue clicked her tongue.  “She’s also deadly.  Before Ms. Lopez became major investor and two-thirds owner of the CrossRhodes Lounge, she was an exotic dancer and part-time gambler.  She barely scraped by from job to job and then suddenly, she meets a man and her luck, apparently, began to change.”

Another photo, this time of a slender man wearing a very expensive suit.  

“That is, or was, Sebastian Smythe; a smarmy, sarcastic rich boy who used his daddy’s money to sell ripped off French beauty products to a gullible American public,” Sue said with a smirk.  “Porcelain, I’m sure you and he would have gotten along famously with your shared love of facial creams and hair product.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at her.  “He looks like a meerkat.”

“Well this meerkat met his untimely end after four months of wedded bliss with Ms. Lopez,” Sue continued.  “His single flyer plane crashed in the Hamptons.  The body was not found, but the explosion was so big, they ruled that he must have been burnt to a crisp upon impact.  Lopez inherits the money, and buys a majority ownership of CrossRhodes Lounge.  And then things get interesting.”

The next photo in the pile was that of a round-faced man in a baseball uniform.  

“It didn’t take Ms. Lopez long to recover from the tragic death of her husband,” Sue continued.  “A few weeks later, she was seen in the company of former Yankees star Dave Karofsky.  Karofsky was forced to retire early do to an knee injury, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t find love, and within a month Lopez and Karofsky tied the knot with a ceremony on home plate.  This marriage lasted a little longer, but not by much, because Karofsky met his untimely end while sailing in the Atlantic ocean when his yacht mysteriously caught on fire.  Again, no body was found, though I assume it sunk immediately to the bottom of the Atlantic.”

“So, she’s apparently killing her husbands for the money,” Kurt said, failing to see why this case was being brought to them.  “The NYPD could have handled this.”

“Oh, they sent it to us.”

“Why?”

“Well, it seems as though Ms. Lopez has found herself a new fiance.”

Sue flipped over the next photo and pushed it towards Kurt.  A man, most likely his own age, dark hair, dark eyes, strikingly gorgeous.  Kurt tried to ignore his pulse beginning to race.  

“Oh, who is he?” Brittany asked.  “He looks so mysterious.”

“That would be Blaine Anderson,” Sue said, dramatically tapping her finger on the photo.  

“Who’s Blaine Anderson?” Kurt asked, wondering if he should know the name.  There was something about this guy that seemed almost familiar.

“Nobody, really,” Sue answered. “See, Ms. Lopez, beyond her now deceased ex-husbands, has a habit of only dating men who have substantial wealth.  And it seems as though Mr. Anderson is but a lowly street musician with not a penny to his name.”

“Maybe she found true love,” Kurt said, trying not to sound too bitter in light of his own failed romantic attachments.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no my sweet Agent Porcelain, that’s not how this story goes.”  Sue flipped over the next photo and Kurt nearly gasped.  A very charming looking man was posing for the camera.  The man may have been dressed to the nines in his tux, but he knew that strange grin anywhere, and instinctively looked up to the wall behind Sue’s desk where she kept her personal Most Wanted list.  And in at number two was a mugshot of the same face.  Sue smirked again, as she watched Kurt figure it out.  “Yes, that’s right.  Blaine Anderson’s brother is none other than a top tier international jewel and art thief.  An international thief who is worth over a million dollars in stolen goods.  That’s right.  Cooper Anderson.” Sue dramatically pointed at the mugshot.

Brittany tilted her head in confusion.  “Wait, so is Santana trying to steal his money, or are they trying to steal Santana’s money?”

“Well, that’s the real question now, isn’t it sweetcheeks?” Sue folded her arms across her chest.  “And that’s where the two of you come in. You’ll be doing some undercover work to get this mess sorted out.  It looks like one of the waitress-slash-dancers of the CrossRhodes Lounge just quit and there’s an opening.  Brittany, how would you like to use some of that special training you’ve acquired.”

Brittany’s eyes lit up.  “Keen!”

“And Agent Porcelain, you’ll be accompanying her as her manager and husband.”

Kurt sat up straight in his chair.  “What? Why? I can easily just be her manager.  We don’t have to be married.”

Sue raised her eyebrow at him.  “Brittany asked for a partner on this one, and I agree, this is a two person job.  You’ll be able be much closer to the situation as her husband.”

“Please, Kurt? Please, please, please?” Brittany grabbed onto his arm and shook it.   “Out of all the fake husbands I’ve had in my life, you’ve been my favorite.  We’re special unicorns in this together.”

God, that’s right.  He had suppressed the Ohio job, one of the first few cases he had worked on when he joined the FBI, which had him and Brittany undercover as a husband and wife living in the backwaters of Western Ohio.  He doesn’t have many fond memories of their time spent together, being forced to wear denim and plaid the whole time, but he did learn a lot about himself that week.  

“Should be a pretty easy case, Porcelain,” Sue said, stroking her chin.  “Open and shut within a week, I have that much faith in the two of you.  Listen, this one’s personal.  I’ve been wanting to catch Cooper Anderson ever since he stole the Blue Diamond of Dibella out from under my nose.  I had won it at an auction and it would have been my most prized possession, my crown jewel to put on all my trophies.  And that charming, admirable, god-like, fine male specimen with the most gorgeous blue eyes you’ve ever seen took it from me.  Either way the chips fall, whether it’s through Santana Lopez conning him or if the Anderson brothers have their next job, I’ll be able to take him out.  So you either take the case and help me bring him down or I’m sending you to the desert for three months to pick up weather balloon parts. What do you say?”

Kurt took a deep breath, thinking it over for a second.  Sue Sylvester was a pretty powerful woman, and with one screw up his ass would be on the line.  The case was definitely a risk.  Still…

Out of the corner of his eye, the photograph of Cooper’s brother Blaine caught his attention again. There were some pretty amazing genes in the Anderson family.  But what really stuck out is how innocent Blaine looked in that photo.  He had seen and met countless criminals throughout his career, and Blaine just did not fit the type.  

“I’m in.” Kurt said before he could talk himself out of it.  

The one thing Kurt didn’t know was that the only person Blaine Anderson was dangerous to was Kurt himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Sue acquired a place for them not too far from the lounge.   The apartment, which was modest in size for a New York living space, would double as a place for operations and as a place for them to stay while undercover.  Brittany spent the first hour they were there finding all the secret hiding places; false bottoms in the drawers, extra space behind the closet wall, a safe behind a landscape oil painting, and two hollowed places in the floor.  There was even a tiny secret room behind the bookcase in the living room that connected the living room to the bedroom.  A desk had been squished into the tiny space ‘for your convenience’ Sue had said.  

Although Sue hadn’t mentioned it, Kurt thought there was a pretty good chance that the whole place was probably bugged, too.  There was something about the apartment that felt as though someone was always watching you.  And knowing Sue, someone probably was.

He and Brittany would assume false identities, Mr. and Mrs. Richard and Betty Tubbington.  Something told Kurt that Brittany had helped Sue pick out the names.  They were a well-off couple, Richard Tubbington having a lavish women’s clothing line.

“Why just women’s clothing?” Kurt had asked.  

“Because something about you just screams blouse,” Sue had replied

Kurt had blinked slowly then turned around and walked right out of her office.  He wasn’t sure why he bothered asking her these things.

Betty was a stay-at-home wife, who began looking for a hobby to get her out of the house every once in awhile. Richard would stand in as a manager, to make sure there was no funny business, and find her some interesting work.  Claiming that they were a friend of a friend of one of the regulars, Richard had heard about the opening  singer/dancer/waitress and called the lounge to set up an audition for her.

Kurt had been hoping to talk to Santana Lopez herself but instead he had a conversation with a woman named Quinn Fabray, who claimed to be the talent handler for the lounge.  Ms. Fabray sounded indifferent at best about the inquiry but didn’t question their interest.  They were able to secure the audition the next day.

The night of the audition was their first night in the apartment.  Kurt and Brittany spent the afternoon going over their plant to make sure they were on the same page going forward.   Brittany, despite her eccentricities, listened to his plan carefully.  Tonight would just be about scoping out the place, getting the feel for it and its people, and making sure Brittany acquired the position.

Getting ready for the evening, Kurt scoped out the closet and found that it was full of clothes for each of them.  Kurt picked out a navy suit, the only thing in the closet that looked freshly purchased, and not like Sue had found it at a flea market.  The jacket was a little too big, the pants slightly too small, and Kurt wished he had time to see his tailor because a few adjustments would make the whole ensemble work.  But this wasn’t for him, was it.  It was a part he had to play.  He vaguely thought back to a time when he loved to play different roles, acting out his stories for his mother in the kitchen.  That felt like a long time ago now, even if there was still something appealing about being someone who isn’t you.

Kurt put on his shoes and checked the mirror again to make sure his hair was still styled nicely.  He had finished before Brittany, who was locked in the bathroom, so he gave himself a moment to examine the apartment.  

There was something surreal about the whole ordeal, the entire place was set up as if they actually had a life there. They hadn’t been allowed any of their personal belongings, Sue had made sure they had all their necessities ready and waiting for them.  Despite the fact that they could return to their own places at any point, it felt like they were having an extended vacation at a very strange hotel.  

It was modestly furnished, though Sue’s gaudy taste in furniture did not match his own; there were books on the bookshelves (plenty of mystery novels, Kurt noted, completely Sue’s sense of humor), and there was even food in the fridge.  There were very few personal items, however, with the exception of a few photos he and Brittany had posed for a few days before, which included a mock wedding photo that sat on the nightstand.

Kurt took a moment to look at the wedding photo - two happy smiling people supposedly on the best day of their life.  It was amazing what good lighting and a nice angle will get you.  Even he bought that they were in love with each other.  But the photo wasn’t any more real than anything else in that apartment.  

Marriage was a goal he knew he would never achieve, and he had long ago made with his peace with that.  But still, it’d be nice to have someone to come home to, someone who could hold him at night, and kiss him good morning.  Someone he could grow old with.  Someone who would like him for just being him…

“Kurt - I need your help!” Brittany called from the bathroom.  

She was mostly ready, wearing a red dress that had a black and white polka dotted underlining, and black heels.  Her hair was done, barrette in the back, curls over her shoulders. Her make-up was flawless - dark red lipstick suited her well.  She was absolutely stunning.  It bemused him sometimes how often he was in the company of such wonderful women, and never found a single one of them attractive beyond objectively.  

“What can I do for you, Brit?”

“Can you put this necklace on me?”

“Sure?”

Kurt gently swept the hair off her neck, and clasped the necklace in place.  He then looked up and saw their reflection in the mirror.  They made a lovely couple, in the right costumes, under the right light.  The reflection looking back painted a nice picture, a loving husband and wife, but their images were just as mocking as the wedding photo.  It was only a facade.  It would always only be a facade.  

“Why are you being so mopey?” Brittany asked, giving him a frown.

“I not being mopey.”

“You’re totally being mopey.” She turned around and pointed a finger at him.  “If you’re going to be my husband you can’t be mopey like this.  Especially when you’re going to spend the evening with some as clearly amazing as I am.”

He couldn’t help but crack a smile.  “Alright, I’ll try not to be mopey.”

Her eyes lit up, and she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.  “This is going to be a lot of fun, Kurt Hummel.  Just you wait.”

 

//

 

By the time the arrived at the lounge, Kurt was in better spirits, and he and Brittany entered arm in arm.  The bouncer was a bald man name ‘Puck’ who had a bit of a bark to him.  Over the years Kurt had seen a lot of guys like these, and either he or Brittany could take him down with just a threat if need be.  The staircase was barely lit, and tight enough that he and Brittany had to descend in single file.  The stairs, however, were misleading.  The lounge itself was not what Kurt had expected.

The room was massive for New York City, sprawling about three sizes larger than the bars he was used to.  Christmas lights of gold, red, and orange lined the ceiling, creating a warm glow about the place.  There were sturdy wooden chairs and tables, each with a little candle in the middle, and to the right, along the wall, was a black, sleek, newly built bar.  The stage was to the left, and had a small walk way into the main part of the room, so the singers could participate with the audience at closer range if desired.  A small pit for the jazz band was located just off the side of the stage.  There was a far door on the opposite side of the room, most likely leading to bathrooms, backstage, and management offices.

Sue had said slinky, but he now doubted that she had stepped inside the place before giving them the assignment.  The place was, actually, quite welcoming and Kurt stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a moment to take it all in.  The place was only a quarter or so full - but it was early in the evening, surely the numbers would grow as the night went on. The band played a lively number, while an African-American woman sang and an Asian-American woman tap danced along.    Instead of loners sitting around drinking by themselves as he expected, most of the patrons were sitting in small groups, chatting happily as they sipped their colorful cocktails, a few of them dancing to the music in the aisles.  

“This place is magical,” Brittany said, just as the music wrapped up with an enthusiastic wail on the final note.  Kurt could only nod in agreement.  The place erupted into cheers as the women took their bow.  

Kurt and Brittany were slowly making their way to the bar across the room when the women made their way off stage.  The lounge grew quiet as the band began to play again, this time a slower number.  

The curtains parted and out strode a very gorgeous man up to the microphone.  He closed his eyes, and began to sing, slowly, carefully, the first few notes of the song.  Kurt became immediately transfixed, hanging onto every note.  Then, his eyes flew open, alive with delight as the song picked up tempo.  Kurt knew who he was - there was no doubt about it.  He had seen the file, maybe lingered on the photo a little too long while going through it, but photographs did not do him justice.  Blaine Anderson was breathtaking in person, and it took Kurt completely off guard.  

His voice was rich and inviting, his energy captivating, and sensuality just oozed from him.  He used the microphone as a partner, singing into it almost seductively.  He knew how to work the audience, how to use the music to his advantage to draw them in, make them watch, and try as he might, Kurt couldn’t look away.  He was frozen on the spot - just watching.  Blaine made a point to interact with the audience, reached out to them, winked at them, and for one brief second, made eye contact with Kurt and, damn, he even smirked.  

Kurt’s heart began to race.  This was a bad idea.  He couldn’t already be entwined with a subject’s fiance - he can’t.  But even worse, he couldn’t be this enamoured with a straight man.  This was a bad, bad idea.  

Still…

As the song wrapped up, Brittany grabbed his hand - anchoring him back to reality.  He looked to her, because he couldn’t look back up at the stage, and she gave him a kind smile.  For a moment, he wondered if she knew.  

The bar was tended by an Asian-American man with a friendly smile named Mike, according to his nametag.

“Ah, first timers?” he asked.  Kurt and Brittany exchanged looks and nodded.  “Well, welcome to CrossRhodes Lounge - first drink is on the house.  What can I get you?”

Behind Kurt, Blaine Anderson had gone into his second song, and it took every ounce he had not to turn around and look.  “Something sobering, actually,” Kurt said.  

Mike laughed. “And for the lady?”

“Oh, just some water,” Brittany said.  “I’m auditioning tonight - have to be my best!”

“Auditioning, huh?” Mike said.  “Oh! You must be here to fill in Sugar’s old spot.”

“Sugar?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah, she didn’t exactly leave in good graces.  But that’s about all I know.”  Mike took a step back and put his hands up as if he didn’t want to really talk about it.  Kurt made a mental note to look into that later.  “I’m guessing you wanna talk to Quinn.  She should be in the back, hold on.  Sam! Hey, Sam!” Mike called out to a blond man leaning against the wall watching the women who were performing earlier sing back up for Blaine.  “You’ll have to forgive him, he’s sweet on Mercedes up there.  Sam!” Mike gave Sam a whack on the arm to finally get his attention.

“Ouch, what?” Sam said, rubbing his arm.  

“We have a new hire prospect,” Mike said.  “Can you go grab Quinn?”

Sam lit up as he noticed Kurt and Brittany.  “Sure! It’d be nice to have a few new faces around here.”

Sam left towards the back.  

“So, is Santana Lopez here?” Kurt asked.  “I heard she owns the place.”

Mike gave a noncommittal shrug.  “I never know where she is.  Breezes in and out when she feels like it.  Why? Do you need me to pass a message along.”

“No, merely curious.”

Another minute passed and Sam returned with a woman Kurt supposed was Quinn Fabray.  Quinn’s blonde hair was tightly pulled up in a high bun, she wore a blouse and skirt, more appropriate of a secretary at an office than at a cocktail bar, and a scowl on her face.  

Kurt stepped forward to introduce himself.  “Hello, Ms. Fabray, my name is Richard Tubbington and this is my wife Betty.  I’m here representing her.  She’s quite the talented girl, and I’m sure she’ll be a good fit to your staff.”  Kurt attempted to throw in an overly fond smile but he wasn’t sure how well it played with Quinn, as she ignored him completely to talk with Brittany.

“Hi, I’m Betty,” Brittany said, maybe a little too overly sweet.

“Quinn.  What are your qualifications?”

“Oh,” Brittany tilted her head to think about it.  “I’m mostly self taught, but I know how to move so people like it.”  She unexpectedly wiggled her butt tauntingly close to Kurt, enough that it made him blush a little.  “See, even my husband likes it.”

Quinn gave her an odd look.  “Well, I’ll definitely audition you, but I’m afraid this job won’t pay much.”

“We won’t be asking for much,” Kurt said.  “We’re not in need of money.  Betty would just like to spread her wings a little, wouldn’t you, B?”

“Yes, I barely am able to get out of the house,” Brittany added.  “And I don’t think the world really appreciates just how unicorn I really am.”

Kurt pretended what Brittany said was completely normal.  “She really is fantastic.”

“Well, they’re almost done, so we’ll just get you up there to see how well you can sing,” Quinn said.  “Would you mind coming with me to the back? We’ll get you ready for the stage, and there’ll be a few more questions I’d like to ask.”

Quinn took Brittany’s arm to lead her to the back.  Kurt made a motion to leave with them, but Quinn stopped him dead in his tracks with a glare.  

“Do you really need to have that much control over your wife?” she asked.  Kurt noticed Quinn playing with the wedding ring on her left hand, an expensive gold band, large diamond, very new.  Huh.  

“I just assumed…”

“Well, she’s the one auditioning. Not you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Brittany gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “You worry too much about me.”

Kurt didn’t argue, and Brittany left with Quinn, leaving him alone at the bar.  

Mike came back in another minute with bright drink and the reassurance that if nothing else, it could lift his spirits.  He wasn’t so sure but took the drink anyway.  It had a sharp taste, bitter with a bit of a tang added to it.  He snacked on a few peanuts and took a few more sips, not sure if he liked it but he began to feel more relaxed and it was nice, for a moment, to feel unclenched.   His head began to feel a little fuzzy, not in a bad way though, and he smiled as the women on stage began another tap number.

“I really doubt the government could cover up something that big,” he heard Mike say to Sam behind the bar.

“It’s definitely aliens,” Sam said, slapping the back of his hand to the other to drive home his point.  “My cousin was down there, he knows.”

“Your cousin is also high ninety percent of the time,” Mike argued. “He also talks to cactuses on a regular basis.”

Kurt began to giggle, just a little.  He should tell Sue, she’d get such a big kick out of the conversation.  He then thought of work, and that he should start making a list of things to go on his report when he returned home, but his brain wouldn’t quite connect the thoughts.  

He was trying hard to concentrate when someone brushed, no cupped, his elbow.  Startled, Kurt looked up to see Blaine Anderson take the stool next to him.  

“Hi,” Blaine said.  At first Kurt thought maybe Blaine was talking to someone else, but other than a lone, elderly man at the far end of the bar, and a couple of young girls giggling with their heads together at the other end, no one else was there.  No, Blaine Anderson was definitely speaking to him; Blaine Anderson with his warm, honey-colored eyes and his charming smile.  “My name’s Blaine.”

“Kurt,” _Shit_. “I mean Richard K. Tubbington.  I go by my middle name, Kurt.”

“Well, hello Richard K. Tubbington-I-actually-go-by-Kurt,” Blaine said.

There was something enchanting about the way he talked.  What was going on? Was there something in that drink?  Blaine rested his hand on the bar - his hand close to Kurt’s, close enough to reach out and touch.  Kurt’s hands became sweaty at the thought - when was the last time _that_ had happened?  

“Santana said you’d be waiting for me during my set.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t say you were so, um, well,” Blaine turned away for a moment, almost nervously.  “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s, um, nice to, uh, meet you, too,” he said, a little dumbly.  Words were becoming hard.  Blaine up close was almost too much to handle.  He noticed that Blaine’s hair began to curl at the ends where the gel was loosening.  Focus, Kurt, focus.   “I haven’t, um, met Ms. Lopez, only Ms. Fabray.”

“Oh?” Blaine looked confused.  “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Blaine reached barely an inch further and brushed Kurt’s fingertips with his own.  Kurt was stunned, frozen in place, to dumbstruck to talk as Blaine ever-so-lightly caressed his fingers.  Was he flirting? Oh god - what was going on? Sue? There’s no way Sue did this, did she?  He didn’t really care, not when Blaine was back to looking at him with large, adoring eyes.  He was pretty sure that no man had ever looked at him like _that_ before.  

There was a sharp, high pitch note coming from the jazz band that jolted Kurt back to reality.  Managing to break away from Blaine’s gaze, he glanced up at the stage, where Brittany was taking her place.  She waved at him as her number started up.

“Oh, it’s Br-Betty.  Betty’s starting now.” His head was still so hazy.

“Betty?”

“My, um, wife.  Betty, she’s on stage right now.”

Blaine retracted his hand immediately and whipped his head around to look.  “What? Santana didn’t mention...I mean, god, married? I… I…”

“Bla-aine!” The woman calling his name could only be Santana Lopez.  Kurt recognized her immediately from the file - only, as enthusiastic as she was about seeing Blaine, she seemed much more intimidating in person.   She was followed by another man, who looked like he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to be there.  “Blaine, I’m sorry we’re late.” She pushed between Kurt and Blaine, not really even noticing Kurt was there at first, and threw her arms around Blaine’s neck.  “And I brought someone to...” she threw a quick look around to Kurt and eyed him suspiciously.   “To wrap up those business negotiations.  His name is Jeremiah.  He runs the tux shop down the road, you guys, I’m sure, will have lively conversations about bowties in no time.  Feel free to use my office.”  

Blaine’s eyes grew wide, and he looked apologetically over at Kurt.  There had been a mix-up.  Of course this was some kind of mix-up.  Kurt deflated as that realization became clear.  He didn’t understand what all this business stuff was about, but Kurt had not been Blaine’s intended target.  That was for sure.  Still - was flirting standard practice with all possible business prospects? Something was fishy about the whole thing.  Kurt had a job to do, even if the job suddenly felt so much harder than it did a week ago.

As soon as Blaine left for the backroom with Jeremiah, Santana spun on her heel, and eyed him hard. “Hi, Santana Lopez.  We haven’t met.  What are you doing in my lounge talking with my fiance?” Her unexpected preditorialism caught him off guard, but only for a second.  Her fierceness rekindled his sense of purpose.  And he didn’t appreciate the condescension.  

“You haven’t seen me because I’ve never been here.  I’m Richard K. Tubbington.  And we were talking.”  Which is probably the only legal thing going on in this place, he wanted to add, but wisely did not.

Santana crossed her arms across her chest in disgust.  “Just what I need, another dick in my life.”  

“He’s also manager and husband of Betty Tubbington,” Quinn had come up behind Santana.  Her face was controlled, but underneath she was seething.  “Betty is auditioning tonight to take Sugar’s place - which you would know about if you ever showed up for work.”

“I’m trying to keep this business floating, which means sometimes I have to go outside and get help,” Santana said.  The animosity between the two women was tense.  “No one gave you permission to hire anyone.”

“Whatever help you’re trying to get is not working,” Quinn shot back.  “They inquired, they’re here, and they’re cheap.  You don’t really want another Sugar on your hands, do you?”

“You still need to talk to me.”

“Fine - you tell her to stop singing.”

Quinn held her hand out towards Brittany, was on her second song, and in the audience, leaning on one of the tables, flirting with a flustered Sam by pulling his tie.  Santana saw Brittany and became speechless.  She looked at Kurt, confused, then back to Brittany, who was doing a shoulder shimmie, then back to Kurt.  

“ _You_ are married to _her?”_ Santana asked as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yup.”

“As in you’ve actually had sex?”

“Santana!” Quinn snapped.  

Brittany spotted Kurt, pointed a finger at him, then crooked it towards her.  She danced her way to the bar, perfectly in time with the music, then gave a hip bump to Santana, who let out a little yelp, played with Quinn’s bun, then booped Kurt’s nose before heading back towards the stage.  Santana blinked slowly, not sure what just happened.  A twitch of a smile formed on Quinn’s lips.  

“I think we should hire her,” Quinn said, hands on her hips.  “God knows this place could use a little tension relief.”

Santana watched Brittany for a moment more, thinking hard.  “Alright fine,” she gave in.  “C’mon, Mr. Tubbington, let’s negotiate.”

They were in! Kurt felt a wave of relief wash over him, even if getting in was always the easy part.  

Santana motioned for him to follow her, and they made their way to what he suspected would be the office area.  Blaine and his ‘business associate’ were on the way out, Blaine laughing easily at something Jeremiah had just said.  The moment he saw Santana and Kurt, his face fell, and he quickly looked away, deliberately trying not to make eye contact with Kurt.  Kurt’s heart dropped.  Santana patted Blaine on the cheek as they passed, not noticing anything was wrong.  Kurt noticed, though.  And he hated that.  

He was not going to let Blaine get to him, he promised himself.  This assignment would remain completely professional.  It had to.  He followed Santana down the hallway, and tried hard to get Blaine’s enticing, hazel eyes out of his head.  


End file.
